Skylight poem

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I want you
to think of words

like wonderful
miraculous

transformative
strong…

I want you
to wear them

round your neck
I want you to let

the words
drip down your back

The words want to give you wings
Let them

Let the poets in
They are not trying to steal your silverware

They are trying to give you wings
Or rather:

They are just trying to remind you
(words

birds
words)

you’ve got
them

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You, the winged one

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Show us a breath
of fresh air:

Sometimes we forget
what it feels like

Like caged birds
Our city of cages

Harvesting our
howevers…

However
See that,

flying over the English fields?
It is (also) you:

Your spirit soars
You feel it

As if a line connects your body
to your simultaneous inner spiritual flight

Your imagination
opening you up

to inner and outer worlds:
both gravity-bound and air-borne

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Colour our cities

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Grey is a colour, apparently, although I’ve always failed to see it. Whatever happened to a nice turquoise, spilling over the edges, to harvest a new Thames message? The trains are colourful. Or maybe we can plant some trees with non predatory roots.

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The answer to the question How dangerous is colour? is Very. Capitalism is great at creating shackles; chained means blinded, means unhappy, means empty, means need to buy and buy and buy to temporarily distract what can only be filled with colour.

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Colour will throw your focus out of focus and make you realize that perhaps you really were not that focused.

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At the end of the day

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there’s that phrase again…

At the end of the day
the world and all its sublime waterfalls

are much too far away
much too far away

to touch them
in any thorough way.

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At the end of the day
you will have wanted to carve the pigeon

out the clay
and “the bride’s dowry”

(as they say in Greece)
to not have to pay.

At the end of the day
it is important to hear someone say

I am here for you;
there is no other way;

there is no need
this paradise between us to delay.

At the end of the day
it is another person’s face

that will be
the only fair play

the only way a day
feels complete in any way.

Your lips saying you love me
like I love you;

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and that everything
is going to be ok.

At the end of the day
it is with you I wish to lay

as the night washes over us
and the stars find home in your eyes:

here to stay.

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